


The Taste of Smoke and Ash

by LocalVodkaAunt



Category: One Piece
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bathroom Sex, Hook Up, M/M, PWP, Semi-Public Sex, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-03
Updated: 2018-10-03
Packaged: 2019-07-24 13:13:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16175777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LocalVodkaAunt/pseuds/LocalVodkaAunt
Summary: Ace doesn’t know what that guy’s deal is. He would have thought the other one flirting. But in Ace’s book, that means actually smiling or making any indication to contact the other person, neither of which pineapple guy has done yet. The only thing he ever does is look, with the same half-assessing, half bored expression in his face.





	The Taste of Smoke and Ash

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Вкус дыма и пепла](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17827553) by [WTF_United_States_of_One_Piece_2019](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WTF_United_States_of_One_Piece_2019/pseuds/WTF_United_States_of_One_Piece_2019)



> This was written for the Marcoace Week 2018 on tumblr. The promt was smoke/fire. Please drop me line/ an emoji to tell me how you liked it and what I can do better the next time around!  
> And most of all, I hope you enjoy yourself!

Smoke hangs over the bar like a cloud. It wavers over the polished wood, bottles of beer and glasses of whiskey, looping around the heads of the customers, distorting their faces. There hasn’t been a breath of fresh air in hours. Ace feels the lack of oxygen and the drink in his hands go to his head, making him just a bit dizzy. Next to him, Sabo laughs about something Luffy says, his boyfriend’s grumpy voice interrupting the conversation to scold him.

 

He lets his gaze wander around the crowded room. It’s Friday evening, and almost every seat is taken. People stand in the corner laughing, a group of friends plays Billiard in the adjoining chamber. Their laughter drowns out all other noise for a minute, before it ebbs away and the mix of glasses clinking, voices speaking, and bad Britpunk takes its place again.

 

Ace loves this place, because it’s loud and skunky and just plain lawless. Last week someone broke a chair over another man’s head and no one even bothered to look twice at the conflicting parties, except Luffy, who laughed and tried to join in until one of his friends talked some sense into him.

 

The people are mostly the same every weekend. There is Teach, who is a funny guy, but sometimes gets a cruel look in his eyes which makes Ace uneasy. Thatch, the Barkeeper, who never has a weekend off and always makes crude jokes about his customers. Along with him usually is Izou, who may or may not help at the bar as he sees fit.  His main task seems to be supplying Whitebeard, the owner of the bar, with an endless stream of Ale. Whitebeard towers next to the bar in an enormous armchair which doesn’t fit the rest of the bar in the least. He always has an oxygen tank with him and every now and then a nurse appears from somewhere and takes his vitals.

 

The guys at the Billiard table play the same game every week. The red-haired guy always wins, handling the cue like it was a sword and better than Ace would have thought with only one arm.

 

People usually come in groups of varying sizes, taking up the room slowly as the evening progresses until there is barely space to walk anymore. This is a place for people to hang out and celebrate, not sullen reflection and self-pity.

 

But there is only one guy who always drinks alone.

 

Luffy has termed him ‘pineapple guy’, because he has the most ridiculous hairdo, shaved sides and blond hair standing up in any direction at the top of his head. He usually sits at the bar, a glass of scotch before him and watches the different patrons come and go. Sometimes he exchanges a few short words with Thatch, Izou or Whitebeard, but he never mingles and always takes the same spot.

 

Ace has been watching him all evening.

 

Nothing particularly interesting has happened. Pineapple guy sits there and sip on his drink, eyes dancing from person to person, assessing the coming and goings of every customer. Sometimes he seems to be listening, other times he seems almost spaced out. Without looking down at the bar, his hands reach for a cigarette in regular intervals, lighting it with a silver metal lighter that for a few short moments will shine on his face. He will lean back and smoke, and when his cigarette has burned down, he will put it out in the ashtray next to him, looking up and meeting Aces eyes.

 

Every single time.

 

The first few weeks Ace was irritated to feel eyes linger on him when he sat in their corner with his friends, especially since he couldn’t figure out who exactly was looking at him. But as time passed, he caught pineapple guy staring more than once, until last week, he decided to return the favor.

 

They have been watching each other since then. 

 

Ace doesn’t know what that guy’s deal is.

 

He would have thought the other one flirting. But in Ace’s book, that means actually smiling or making any indication to contact the other person, neither of which pineapple guy has done yet. The only thing he ever does is look, with the same half-assessing, half bored expression in his face.

 

He asked himself if maybe it’s not him, if the guy is staring at someone behind him, maybe, so today he took a place with his back to the wall. It’s the same as last week.

 

He watches pineapple guy take the last drag of his cigarette, exhaling the grey smoke and stubbing out the fag at the same time. He looks up, and as their eyes meet, Ace can feel excitement rising in him. It feels like a challenge. To not look away, to find out what this is about, to keep up with the other man. It makes his skin tingle. In the back of his mind he notices he has completely tuned out Luffy and Sabo.This has never happened before, their interaction was always short, they never drew anything out or acknowledged each other beyond their short exchanges. All his attention is fixed on pineapple guy and his eyes lingering on him. 

 

He is not moving, and neither is the other man. They are just sitting there, staring at each other over the heads of the crowd, through the smoke and the semi-darkness. It feels different this time. For the last two weeks, Ace has looked at the stranger who met his gaze and got back to drinking, seemingly not caring for Ace until he smoked the next cigarette. It was like a ritual.

 

This time, the other doesn’t turn around.

 

It’s almost awkward that none of them is willing to back off. But nothing changes, and the moments pass, tuning into half a minute. They don’t move.

 

They don’t blink.

 

Ace knows it’s not true, but he feels like time doesn’t exist anymore. The other people don’t matter. The most important thing is that he keeps on looking.

 

His eyes start to burn, and his throat is dry. His body is tense in anticipation. Of what, he doesn’t know, but he knows  _ something _ is going to happen. Still, the seconds stretch, then fly by and everything is still the same.

 

When Ace things he can’t hold out any longer, when his eyelids itch and all he can focus on is to keep them open, right as he begins to ask himself why he’s even doing this, pineapple guys rucks his head to his right.

 

Its an abrupt gesture that seems weirdly out of place. It breaks the standstill they found themselves in and for a moment, Ace doesn’t know what to make of it. Then the other man breaks away completely, getting up from his stool. He turns right and heads to the bathroom.

 

Ace watches as the door falls shut behind him. He can’t make sense of what the stranger wanted to indicate until he sees hears Thatch shout over the sound of the music. “Hey, Izou, Marco’s on break now!” Izou, who has been sitting with a group of half drunken men, a flashy lipstick in hand and in the process of drawing on a beer coaster, immediately gets up and, without sparing the crowd he entertained a second ago another glance, takes pineapple guys place at the bar, taking possession of the half empty glass of scotch as he does.

 

Then it clicks in Aces head. His feet move before he can even think about it and he’s out of the chair in the fraction of a second. Pushing through the various people sitting and standing in the way between him and the door, he rushes to reach it as fast as he can.

 

And he doesn’t even know why. Normally, he would assume this to be an invitation, but from the way pineapple guy behaved, they could get in a fight just as easily.

 

But Ace has been challenged before, and he always met it head on, because he never backs down, no matter what.

 

Just as he won’t now. Whatever awaits him behind that door, he’ll be up for it.

 

Heart pumping in his chest, he presses his hands against the cold metal of the door and gives it a push that is more confident than he really feels, but he shoves the thought into the far end of his brain and steps into the room.

 

It’s a standard bar bathroom, dimly lit, with cracked tiles and stickers plastered on the walls. A few fags lie on the floor and it smells like a mixture of cleanser and stale air. Ace is relieved he can only see half of the room, because he is fairly certain it only gets worse from here.

 

Pineapple guy, or Macro, as Izou called him, leans at the wall opposite the sinks, eyes trailing in Aces direction as he hears the door creak in its hinges.

 

He looks incredibly relaxed as he stands there, shoulders touching the tiles and a leg propped up against the wall, hands buried in his pockets. It’s like before in the serving room. Through half closed eyes, Marco glances at him as if to dare him and Ace is momentarily paralyzed.

 

But then he gathers his wits and takes a small step towards the other man. Their eyes never stray as Ace slowly gets closer, tension almost tangible between them. It is as if Marco pulls him in, without even doing anything special, as if his sheer existence was enough.

 

He stops a short distance across from him, not sure to go on. But Marco helps him as he grabs his shirt, pulling him the last few inches and Ace gives in. The situation is so hypnotic, it startles him when the other suddenly speaks.

 

“I want you.”

 

His voice is higher than Ace expected and rough on the edges. It is soaked in a desire his expression doesn’t betray, that he never would have guessed to wait there for him. And Ace is immediately taken in by it, feels it echo deep in his bones. The air between their bodies is an endless void, too far, too wide. He’s hot all over, breath shaky and heart still racing.

 

“Good thing the feeling’s mutual,” he utters, before turning his face up slightly, because Marco is a bit taller than him. The other man uses the opportunity to lay a hand on his cheek and guide it so that he can bow down, kissing Ace without further notice.

 

It tastes like smoke and ashes. For a moment, Ace thinks he is going to be sick before he decides it is oddly fitting for the occasion. Marco smells like it, too, mixed with a hint of cologne. Ace gets addicted to it as they kiss, as Marco opens his mouth for his tongue and buries his hands into his hair, as if he wants to have him even closer. Ace is aware of their bodies almost touching, and moves in. Through the thin layer of clothes, he feels the hard muscles of the other man’s body against his own, the slender curve of his ribcage as he lets his hands wander. Cloth slips over skin, but soon it’s not enough, impatience making him erratic, and without restraint he pulls up Marco’s shirt and gives his lip a playful bite to indicate he wants to move along. His skin is humming, his cock already half hard in his shorts from just kissing. There is something about the other, about his passive but forward demeanor that excites him beyond words, making him curious about what reactions he can coax from him.

 

His hands dip between the wall and Marco’s body to cup his ass and the other lets out a barely concealed growl, gripping his hands tight and spinning them around so that Ace’s back hits the tiles almost painfully. But he likes it, likes the wildness he sees in Marco as their eyes meet again, his demanding lips against his own. He feels fingers trail over his chest, scratching lightly over the fabric when they find his nipples. Ace’s back arches of his own volition, searching more friction. Arousal burns in him. He wants this, he wants this man in him, pressed tightly against the wall, and he wants it now.

 

Forgoing any other foreplay, his hands grab Marcos belt and begin to unbuckle his trousers. The slight chuckle he lets out this sends a shiver down his spine and he swallows drily as he feels Marco cover his erection through his pants.

 

They kiss again, more hurriedly, mouths wide open, saliva slicking their lips. Then Marcos hands on Aces hips indicate him to turn around and he does, shivering once more as he feels the same hands pull down his shorts, roaming over his back and ass. He slides down the wall a bit, changing the angle to give the other man better access and realizes how wanton he must look now, hands pressed against the dirty wall of a public bathroom, sticking out his naked butt to a still fully clothed man. Marco seems to think the same. “So eager,” he murmurs, “just as I imagined.” Then he dips a finger between Aces cheeks and strokes his entrance. Ace is not sure ifs the touch or his words, but he feels like he is going to explode with want. 

 

“Hurry,” he breathes and ignores the quiet laughter that follows in order to listen to the telltale rustle of plastic. It takes a few long seconds before the fingers are back, coated with cold lube.

 

The fingers always feel weird at first, even after years of doing this, but Ace still moans in anticipation as he feels Marco entering him. He imagines how good it feels to be filled up completely, moving back so he is penetrated deeper.

 

“Patience.” He can barely make out Marcos words, but the soothing tone of his voice is unmistakable. It feels strangely intimate, seeing as he barely knows the other’s name, but Ace lets go a bit nonetheless and is immediately rewarded with a second finger and the delicious feeling of movement inside him.

 

Marco is not gentle, but he thorough, testing the resolve around Ace’s muscle, finding him relaxed and pliant. He wishes he could see his face but settles for the hands that stroke his hair as the fingers scissor in him, eliciting another moan.

 

“Do you think you can take me?” Marco asks, voice husky against his ear. Ace can only nod, he doesn’t trust his voice just now. He feels the finger vanish and hears the tear of the condom package. “You look great like this,” the other continues in the uncomfortable break that he needs to put on the condom. “All open and waiting for me.” He seems to be a talker, but Ace doesn’t mind one bit. Hearing the lust in the other man’s voice just turns him on further, making it harder and harder to think. He wants to be fucked, wants to touch himself to relieve some of the tension. Fortunately, it doesn’t take long, and only seconds later he feels the tip of Marco’s cock stretching him even wider than his fingers could. He hears him take in a forceful breath as he tries to give Ace time to adjust, but it’s not necessary, because Ace likes how the slight burn feels, likes the moment of weirdness that he knows will be rewarded in a few short moments. He pushes back, taking as much as he can.

 

“You feel so good,” Marco murmurs behind him as he slides deeper, deeper, until finally, he is all inside. Ace forces himself to relax around the intrusion, his mind way faster than his body. But he doesn’t care.

 

“Fuck me already.” The words sound harsher than they are meant to be, but Marco seems to understand and after what were just a few short seconds, but felt like an eternity, begins to move.

 

He doesn’t bother with pleasantries, the rhythm he sets is quick and hard, making Ace gasp at the first forceful thrusts. One of his hands grips Ace’s shoulder to steady himself, the other exploring what little parts of his body he can reach.

 

Ace know he won’t last long, back arching and his hands pressed tightly against the wall to keep his balance. It’s been a while since he has been fucked and he missed it, missed the pleasure building in his gut, taking over his body. He lets out a moan as Marco pulls him even tighter to himself, effectively deepening his thrusts.

 

“I could do this for hours,” the other man growls. “But I’ve waited far too long for this.”

 

He bends forward and wraps a hand around Ace’s cock. The touch feels like fire raging through his body. He didn’t know he needed it, but as Marco sets up a pace that is both punishing and utterly satisfying, he moans out loud, not caring where they are or who could hear them. Marco’s dick twitches inside him at the sound.

 

Ace is torn between loving every second and feverishly waiting for his release, feels the lust center in his balls as Marco picks up the speed just a tiny bit, a drawn out “yes” leaving his mouth as he throws his head back in reflex.

 

For a moment, everything goes still as the only noises in the small restroom is their panting and the sound of flesh meeting flesh. But then Marco begins to speak again. “Every second of this evening I’ve imagined how you would feel around me.” Hearing the words is electrifying. Ace sinks into the feeling of being wanted as Marco goes on. “How your voice would sound when I make you moan.” He accentuates the last words with hard strokes around Ace’s cock. He’s almost there, it’s almost too much, it’s just not enough. Just a tiny bit more, he thinks. “But look at you.” Marco’s voice is hoarse. “You’re so much better than I could have dreamt.”

 

The adoration in his words send Ace over the edge and he comes with a shout. His mind goes blank for a second as all he can feel is pleasure and release, the tingling under his skin, the heartbeat in his ears, the few thrusts before Marco comes himself, stilling and groaning behind him.

 

He catches his breath a few seconds later. His knees feel weak and satisfaction is settling in his bones. Looking at the dirty tiled wall in front of him, Ace straightens himself a bit. His arms hurt from taking the impact.

 

He just got fucked in the restroom of a bar.

 

The thought is both embarrassing and exhilarating. He almost laughs out loud, but then Marco moves and pulls out of him. It reminds Ace that he is not alone and the awkwardness wins over as he swallows and ignores the flicker of anxiety in his gut. Is there some kind of etiquette for this? Does he just pull up his shorts and go? Does he thank the guy for being a good fuck?

 

He decides to get dressed first and stalls a few seconds by fumbling with his clothes before turning around. The lube he didn’t clean up feels funny between his ass cheeks, but that’s the price to pay, he guesses.

 

Marco is already dressed again, too.

 

They look at each other, as they did before. Maybe this is their thing, Ace thinks in the back of his mind. Not talking, just staring at each other.

 

But then Marco moves to speak, relieving Ace of the decision on how to act.

 

“I’ll hope to see you around sometime,” he says. And the noncommittal sentence is accompanied by an approving look that tells Ace he would not mind coming back for more.

 

Then he turns around and leaves but looks back once more before exiting the room. There is a small smile on his lips, barely visible. It makes Aces stomach clench.

 

He watches the other man go and the door falls closed again.

 

For a moment, everything feels unreal, like he dreamt all of it and is now awake in his bed, trying to make sense of his surroundings. But when he looks in the mirror, he sees his untidy hair and blown up pupils and has to smile to himself. He is not a coward, or overly precautious, but he surprised himself today.

 

The taste of cold smoke still lingers in his mouth. He won’t get rid of it easily.

 

Grinning to himself he moves to return to Sabo and Luffy. Next week can’t come fast enough.  


 

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this story, check out my tumblr, zorotrash!


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